It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. ” He walked from his door frame to stand nearer to her. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. Will you leave us for a few minutes?" "You are not going to be harsh?" "I wish to talk about the future. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. He had mentioned teaching her how to read Latin one day when she had wandered into the library. "I am not, by Heaven!" replied Sheppard, firmly. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind.
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